


Being a Prophet is Lame

by queenofthepuddingbrains



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death Fix, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 04:10:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1454884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofthepuddingbrains/pseuds/queenofthepuddingbrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A "fix-it" coda for 9 X 09 "Holy Terror"</p><p>That's pretty much it.  It really is just what I wish might have happened instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being a Prophet is Lame

**Author's Note:**

> Here, I fixed it. Because, that? Was not okay. Not even in the same area code. 
> 
> None of these characters belong to me. But, if the writers keep mistreating them they way they have been, I plan to file a petition to sue for custody. Also, this was written in about a half an hour in an attempt to calm down enough that I can sleep tonight. All constructive feedback is welcome. 
> 
> The very tiniest whisper of Destiel somewhere in the middle; it can easily be read as friendship if you prefer.
> 
> (Update: I wrote this immediately after the episode aired. It is now, obviously, very AU. But, I hope some of you might still get a kick out of it.)

_The first time Kevin Tran had a vision of the future, it was the worst thing he’d ever seen.  Which, considering his life to date, is actually quite an accomplishment._

* * *

 

When it happened, Kevin was toiling away in the bunker, back to work on translating the Angel tablet after, _once again_ , finding a solution to one of Dean’s many angel related “just-get-it-done-Kevin” problems.  As it happens, the vision came, ironically enough, when he was silently bemoaning, _once again_ , how much it actually really and truly sucks ass to be a prophet of the Lord.

Forgetting for a minute the more dire life-and-death trappings that came with the job title—angels and demons trying to drag him off to the desert or kill him on a semi-regular basis, the complete decimation of his AP levels and well-laid plans to become the first Asian-American President of the United States, or the death of his mother. ( _He stilled for a minute at that thought, the reality still making it hard to breathe)—_ being a prophet was just kind of lame.

When you think of prophets (at least, when Kevin used to think of them, back when they were a comfortably abstract concept and not a reality seemingly determined to fuck up his life), you think of mystical powers and making grand changes with broad strokes.  Hell, the guy who got tapped for the gig before him got to see the future on a regular basis.  He even parlayed that into a (semi) successful line of novels.  Sure, he’d been an alcoholic who was, as far as anyone knows, dead, but at least he got to do more than spend his days poring over stone tablets and surrounded by obscure translation texts.

 _Yeah_ , Kevin thought, _this royally blows.  At least it can’t get much worse._   And then, _right then_ , because God, while absent and infuriatingly hands-off, still has a sense of humor, the vision struck.  Pain lanced behind Kevin’s eyes for what seemed an eternity, and he saw the worst thing he’d ever seen.  Then it was over. 

Kevin opened his eyes and took a deep breath.

 _Well, shit._   He thought back to his conversation with Dean earlier in the day. 

“ _Everybody always needs a spell.”  _He most definitely did.  And he _most definitely_ needed it ASAP. 

* * *

 

 

Dean Winchester slumped on the cold floor, staring brokenly over at the body of Kevin Tran.  He could feel Kevin’s eyes glaring at him reproachfully— _“I always trust you; and I always get screwed.”—_ even if they had been burnt out of their sockets.  As he whispered Kevin’s name and allowed the tears to begin to fall, he failed to notice the soft shuffling of feet moving towards the front door.

 

* * *

 

Kevin was tired.  Really, really tired.  The spell had taken a lot out of him.  _But, then, I guess creating an astral projection believable enough to fake your own death will do that,_ he mused.  Of course, using even more energy to create realistic, but slightly flawed, versions of the Angel and Demon tablets had taken a toll as well.

Even beyond the physical weariness, he also felt terrible for letting Dean think he was dead.  But, it couldn’t be helped.  Kevin had always thought that things would probably get worse before they got better, if that was even possible anymore.  Now, he knew it.  And, as much as it pained him to leave Dean alone—with Sam “gone” and Kevin “dead”—he was sure that this was the only way.  He finally saw his role clearly.  He just had to make sure to play it at the right time.  And it most definitely _was not_ lame. 

Comforting conviction aside, Kevin still paused as he pushed the door to the bunker open.  Even though he knew it was likely pushing his luck, considering the powers that be already gave him enough foreknowledge to save his own skin, he still wished he could know that Dean would somehow be okay until it was time for everything to play out. 

Then, he heard it.  Dean had stopped calling Kevin’s name.  He was calling another now—an entreaty, _a prayer_.  And Kevin couldn’t help but smile as he heard the fluttering sound of wings answer.  He allowed himself a final look around the place that he’d, almost unwillingly, begun to think of as home, and his mouth tipped up into a slight smile. 

This would work.  He had to leave, but it wasn’t forever.  Fucked up as it was, their little family could make it through this.  They might be scattered now, but that doesn’t mean they were broken.  Kevin pitied anyone who thought it did.

He closed his eyes and sent one final thought down the hall, not really sure if it was a promise or a prayer: _I’ll be home soon_.  _We all will_. 

Kevin opened his eyes and took a deep breath.  He walked through the door and let the night swallow him up.

* * *

_The first time Kevin Tran had a vision of the future, it was the worst thing he’d ever seen But now, he knows how to fix it.  All of it._

_The first time Kevin Tran had a vision of the future, it was the best thing to ever happen to him, and the worst thing to ever happen to anything in Team Free Will’s way._

__Because Kevin Freaking Solo, bad ass prophet of the Lord, isn't reading the playbook anymore.  He’s writing his own._ _

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So, yeah, that got a bit more thought-y than I was anticipating. I just really wanted to share my head canon that Kevin, genius that he is, is somehow playing everyone. Because I really can’t handle considering anything else right now. Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
